“Let me warn you that the other person who occupies the flat is a really difficult person.”

The young man who welcomed Jongin at the entrance and introduced himself as Kim Junmyeon said, as soon as he lead their way up to the second floor of the mansion. He was donned in an outfit that gave an impression of a young, successful and rich man--which he probably was, considering the mansion he owned. He also provided a good first impression--welcoming and friendly, but not to the point of nosy and suffocating.

“I’ve gotta be frank with you. You are the fourth renter I’ve taken in since the beginning of the year.” He continued, “A lot of people came to look, but only few were willing to give the rent a shot--none of them lasted more than a month. The last one couldn’t even stand to be around for a week, so I completely understand if--in the near future--you want to leave as well.”

Amidst balancing the luggage in his hands and admiring the mansion’s interior, Jongin was caught off guard by Junmyeon’s words. It was the second time that he heard the similar statement. The first came from the manager of the property firm where he located the vacancy for the flat share, who seemed to have made the disclosure of this information as a priority.

That time, Jongin hadn’t developed any kind of suspicion. Problematic housemates exist everywhere; he had learned to deal with them through the years as he moved around for the cheapest possible accommodation. It’s impossible for two strangers to instantly develop perfect chemistry. Besides, Jongin rationalized, a good living quarter in such a posh mansion offered at such low price? There must be a catch. Beggars can’t be choosers, as Jongin only had a meager 200,000 won left in his account. He already felt so grateful that Junmyeon was willing to negotiate for a pending payment.

They reached the second floor, and Junmyeon stopped in front of a door on the left, gingerly eyeing the doorknob. Jongin put down his belongings, and in the instant that his head lowered down, he caught a whiff of foul odor from the bottom gap of the door. Jongin raised his eyebrows--just why on earth did it smell like a mix of decomposed flesh and pungent acid in there?

“You know…” Junmyeon said, seemingly recognizing the surprise in Jongin’s expression. “I still insist that you should take a look around, try to get to know your potential flatmate maybe, rather than moving in right away.”

“Are you trying to discourage me, Junmyeon-ssi?” Jongin asked in amusement. “Because it won’t work. It’s either I sleep here or the park. ”

Junmyeon nodded and knocked the door, although reluctance hadn’t completely left him. “Just don’t say that I didn’t warn you.”





As Jongin sat on one of the ottomans, he was suspicious that there probably was something decomposing somewhere in the room. The living room Junmyeon took him to was full of furniture of early 1900 European style. Shelves made of sturdy wood in mahogany lined the entire walls; all were full of books and whatnot—from what seemed to be a massive collection of bizarre tools, and jars of preserved human organs.

There were burn marks all over the fixtures, ceiling and on the floor—tiny round spots in places that Jongin couldn’t fathom how such marks could be found there. A brand new, spotless espresso machine at the corner next to the en-suite kitchen and dining, looked so out of place in such a room. There was a pile of newspaper clippings; Jongin recognized the names written on the articles. Wu Yifan, the young attache at the Chinese embassy in Korea; Lee Jinki, a retiring school teacher; Choi Jinri; the teenage daughter of a council member; and Kim Youngmin, who was known to be the most famous corporate lawyer in Seoul. All were the victims of the recent series of suicides that had happened in town.

Jongin sat quietly, trying as he might to resist the temptation to inspect the curious objects around him, while Junmyeon was in the other room. The landlord was talking—or rather, trying to start a conversation—with the person who was supposedly the other renter. Junmyeon looked almost pitiful, as he tried to distract the man who wore a quasi-biohazard suit from the cauldron of concoction he was brewing.

“He’s here, Kyungsoo, could you please spare some time?” Jongin heard him say.

There was some indiscernible mumbles from the other person, who was bustling around, riffling through various kinds of jars and substances. But that was the only response Junmyeon received. Jongin smiled, trying to offer some kind of reassurance when Junmyeon nervously glanced towards him, and quickly hid his suppressed laughter behind an ancient copy of Sobotta Anatomy.

It was when Jongin realized that his potential roommate had quite an unusual—to put it mildly—taste in reading. On the shelves Jongin identified an impressive collection of medical and biology books, as well as periodical releases from various subjects, ranging from criminal psychology, chemistry, gardening, and encyclopedia of textiles. Before he could investigate further, however, he heard the sound of footsteps approaching. And when he looked away from the shelves, he saw that the man in the biohazard suit was standing few feet away before him.

“Quite a curiosity for an artist,” the man said, while taking off his headgear, revealing a face that belonged to a man around Jongin’s own age, far younger than he expected. However, Jongin’s surprise came from his statement.

“Wait, how did you know—”

“You’re shabby, and your clothes are either old or cheap—that’s a first.” Kyungsoo didn’t give Jongin a chance to finish his sentence. “You can’t possibly work as regular employee. Your lean body—possibly due to years of eating unhealthy food—eliminates blue-collar worker or manual labor. Your confidence and self-indulgence—how you investigated my stuff—told me that you grew up sheltered in a family with money. But your current state says that your family doesn’t approve your choice of career, therefore the poverty. It’s either you’re a musician or an artist. Your tan, however, is unusual for musicians who spend most of their time indoor, while artists do work outside. Painter, judging from the blackened breadcrumbs on your shoes. You’re confident enough to be a tenant in this house despite being poor. It can only mean that the fortune is near, probably a big project in the near future.”

Jongin could barely catch the entire narration, since Kyungsoo was talking in a quick, monotonous tone. However, he got the gist of what happened. In less than a minute, his housemate had summarized his life for the last few years after he graduated from art school, down to the last point. A benefactor had noticed his works that were displayed his university’s gallery, and had offered him a joint exhibition with some other rising stars in the art field. Some of his pieces were already sent to an auction house, and it was only the matter of time until his bank account would balloon. It was what he told Junmyeon, to convince him to put the rent payment in pending.

“That was brilliant!” Jongin stood up, offering his hand for Kyungsoo to shake. He was rather taken aback, however, at how rude Kyungsoo responded, by taking a step backwards and shaking his head.

“I can give you your handshake. However, you’ll have to bid your career goodbye since your fingers will rot within seconds. That was flesh-eating acid I cooked there, and rest assure some of them smeared on my suit. I don’t mind seeing how my acid works on an actual, living human. But I don’t want to put poor Junmyeon into misery with a tenant who won’t be able to pay the rent. Also, Junmyeon had insisted that I warn you, sharing a living space with me means exposing yourself to danger—or should I say, excitement.”

Kyungsoo’s second speech took the last of Jongin’s ability to come up with words. His mouth gaped in shock, and helplessly he turned to Junmyeon, who in turn showed him some mercy by breaking the ice.

“Kim Jongin, meet Do Kyungsoo.”





“I certainly hope you won’t mind some opera music, which I find useful to help me concentrate,” Kyungsoo said without looking up from his notebooks. Junmyeon had left them alone to ‘bond’, or in another word, seeing if they could tolerate each other’s presence for more than five minutes. “In return, I will not meddle in your artsy fartsy business, as long as you keep your activity confined in your private room. I’m not going to have thinner fume around the apartment.”

“Uh, sure?” Jongin said, even though he had no idea what opera music was, still dumbfounded by his new roommate’s antics. Kyungsoo said something else about bathroom schedules and asked Jongin to use Junmyeon’s kitchen if he wanted to cook. ‘For Jongin’s own well-being’ Kyungsoo reasoned, which after what he saw, Jongin didn’t bother to disbelieve.

A few minutes later, Kyungsoo finally closed his notebook when a text came to his cellphone. Whatever the news was, it made him break into a happy grin and become energetic.

“Are you familiar with the recent suicide cases?” Kyungsoo suddenly asked. Jongin raised his eyebrows, too shocked to reply. The other man ignored his surprise and continued, “Don’t you think that Seoul Metropolitan Police has been spewing enough bull on this matter?”

“Well, uh—yeah?” Jongin shrugged. “I mean…all they did was just tell us to ‘stay safe and don’t kill ourselves’.”

“Rubbish. Those are not suicides, to begin with,” Kyungsoo made a demeaning scoff. “Get dressed and take your coat. You’re coming with me.”

His expression—or lack thereof—was almost unchanging. Jongin wouldn’t have noticed if it wasn’t due to the fact that his artist eyes were trained to detect the slightest change of human’s facial expression, and later in the way Kyungsoo almost bounced when he moved. Kyungsoo didn’t wait for Jongin’s consent before he pulled the him by the wrist, took his coat from the rack by the door, and threw it to the artist. Jongin hastily put the clothes on, and followed Kyungsoo downstairs.

“Junmyeon, we’re borrowing your car!” Kyungsoo shouted to the empty hallway. He grabbed the car key from its usual station at the foyer and shoved it into Jongin’s hands despite the artist’s lack of consent.

It was Jongin who caught Junmyeon peeking out from his study, resignedly mumbling something that sounded like ‘As long as you’re not driving.’





The directions that Kyungsoo provided led them to the worse part of the town, into an alley full of abandoned warehouses and shops. Jongin was sure that on any given night, the block would be dark and empty. However, the alley was now full of people, police cars, and TV station trucks. As soon as Jongin turned off the engine, Kyungsoo unclasped his seatbelt and reached for his duffel in the back seat.

“Why are we here?” Jongin asked, perplexedly watching his roommate’s bouts of business.

Kyungsoo, though, treated his question like it didn’t exist. He climbed out of the car, and when he saw that Jongin wasn’t coming with him, he made an incredulously condescending look. “How long are you gonna stay there? We don’t have all night.”

Jongin rolled his eyes and halfheartedly exited the car. He told himself that, no, he wasn’t being obedient to Kyungsoo. He argued that it would be too cold for him to wait outside, and although Junmyeon’s car came with a super comfortable heater, Jongin would rather not waste the gas. He took his sketchpad along, thinking that he might get productive while waiting for Kyungsoo to finish his...thing.

It was odd how members of the police force seemed to recognize Kyungsoo and provided them access into the restricted area without a word. Jongin grudgingly admitted that he began to enjoy the night, to experience new things and all. The whole crime scene thing ticked his curiosity as an artist, especially when he was in dire need of inspiration.

A gruff, tall man with a detective badge saw their arrival and dismissed the officers he was talking to. He approached them rather halfheartedly. “You came,” he said curtly.

“Well, you called me, Chanyeol. For all I know, I can be somewhere else, doing something I enjoy more,” Kyungsoo scoffed.

“As if you’d enjoy something else than gruesome things. I swear, Kyungsoo, sometimes I seriously think that you’re a bait for criminals.”

Kyungsoo didn’t say anything to counter the remark, but Jongin saw that he didn’t look displeased either. The banter between the two came to a stop when they reached a room on the second story of the empty warehouse. It was probably used for administrative purposes when the warehouse was rented for commercial use. But at this time, the place looked abandoned and eerie, especially with a dead body lying in the middle of the room. It was a man, Jongin recognized. His hair was dyed in an odd rainbow colors, and he was wearing a suit in the shade of pink with a matching tie. On the floor above his head, the word “white” and “black” was scribbled on a layer of dust.

“Tell me about the victim,” Kyungsoo asked.

In a moment, Jongin saw that Kyungsoo had already set up a mini ‘workroom’. The contents of his duffel bag had now been arranged carefully on a clean tarp next to the victim’s body. Kyungsoo himself was crouching next to the body, his eyebrows scrunched in concentration.

“Oh Sehun, male, 29 years old,” Chanyeol read his notes, seemingly unbothered by Kyungsoo’s action as if he had seen it for many times. “A resident of Chuncheon. No sign of violence or struggle—possibly suicide. Preliminary coroner exam results indicated that he died from--”

“--slow reacting poison. Yeah, I figured that out right away,” Kyungsoo cut him off impatiently. “Judging by the discoloration on his lips and fingertips.” Chanyeol seemed pissed. He mumbled something about Kyungsoo shouldn’t have asked if he knew everything already. Jongin snorted into the sleeve of his coat. “It’s a homicide. And where is his suitcase?”

“What suitcase?” Chanyeol asked dumbly. “And we can’t rule out suicide yet. No one would be so dumb to swallow a deadly substance--”

“His suitcase! This man came here with an intention to have some fun. There is no way that he was going home to his despised wife on the same day, which is exactly why Oh Sehun couldn’t possibly commit suicide. And I’m betting you my stellar reputation that you will find the same toxin that was used in the recent series of suicides in his blood.”

“Wait,” Chanyeol’s face grew pale. “How do you know about that? That information hasn’t been released to the public.”

“How do I know?” Kyungsoo laughed, “Chanyeol, you’re talking about me. Why would I not know?” Kyungsoo waved his hand dismissively. “Look for a popular hotel among the gay community and see if they have a reservation for a guest that hasn’t shown up. I don’t suppose, however, that the reservation was made under his name.”

“Wait a minute, gay? You’re bullting--”

“Oh come on, Park, how stupid are you.” Kyungsoo stood up. “This guy is married but unhappily--or should I say was. Look at the ringmark on his fingers. His manicured, expensive perfume, and excessive grooming despite his cheap clothes, Oh Sehun is a man’s man. And no straight guy would ever dye his hair in such colors except if it’s for work, which is impossible because our guy is a salesman. Find his secret lover. He’s the key to this case. I need to find his suitcase.”

Kyungsoo stood up, not minding the look of surprises in his companion’s faces. He dashed out of the room and down the staircase. Jongin was perplexed by his roommate’s sudden action, and he quickly followed. But before he could enjoy a breather from the stale air of the room, Kyungsoo had already reached the bottom of the stairs.

“Wait a minute, Kyungsoo.” Jongin was almost toppled when Chanyeol shoved him aside. “How are we supposed to find the secret lover?”

“God, Chanyeol! White and Black—Baekhyun; find someone with that name!”

The last thing Jongin heard, before he sprinted down the stairs and almost broke his neck while trying to catch up to Kyungsoo, was Chanyeol mumbling,

“And where are we supposed to find this Baekhyun guy?”





It had been a few days since the night at the crime scene; Jongin didn’t get to meet Kyungsoo much afterwards. The man seemed to be so occupied with the case, and the only times Jongin got to see him was when Kyungsoo arrived home late at night. Even then, they ended up ignoring each other’s presence, since Jongin was usually preparing to go to bed while Kyungsoo just started to settle on his ‘work station’, the dining table.

However, on one night, the dynamic of their routine was changed. Jongin was drawing some sketches while munching on sandwiches, courtesy of Junmyeon who seemed to have developed pity for him, when Kyungsoo arrived home slightly earlier than usual. Jongin hadn’t had the chance to even greet his roommate when Kyungsoo had snatched both Jongin’s sketches and the last piece of sandwich. The remaining sandwich was the only one with bacon and egg, which was Jongin’s favorite and the one he had saved for last.

“Fancy you found something interesting from the scene,” Kyungsoo said with his mouth full, referring to the sketch of the dead body they had seen at the crime scene, disregarding the fact that Jongin’s sketchpad was now smeared with mayonnaise.

“You’re welcome for the sandwich,” Jongin said in annoyance. He was still bearing grudge toward Kyungsoo for leaving him out cold at the crime scene.

“Eh, I didn’t say thank you,” Kyungsoo mumbled. “I need your cellphone, by the way.”

“Why?”

“Because I need to text someone,” Kyungsoo gave him an incredulous stare.

“And why does it have to be my cellphone?”

“Because I don’t want the text to be traced back to my phone, silly.”

“And I supposed it’s ok if, let’s say, some random killer traces it back to mine…” Jongin rolled his eyes. Nevertheless, he fished out his phone and handed it to Kyungsoo, knowing that his roommate would not put the matter to rest. Kyungsoo, however, didn’t take the gadget, and instead gave Jongin another look.

“Well, what are you waiting for?”

“You really want me to type the text for you,” Jongin answered blankly.

“It’s your phone, yes!” Kyungsoo made a gesture that expressed his impatience. “Type exactly as I say, ‘what happened? I must have out. Meet me at 22-Euljiro 3-Ga’, and send it to this number.” He shoved a piece of paper into Jongin’s hand.

Jongin glanced at the piece of paper in his hand, and then to his roommate, “Oh Sehun—wait, that’s the dead man’s number. Where did you get the number?”

Kyungsoo nodded towards a bright-colored suitcase on the table. Jongin’s eyes widened. “Is that the missing suitcase? Kyungsoo, that’s an evidence for a murder—” Jongin paused. He exhaled, releasing the tension of his shoulders, and leaned back into the chair. “—you know what, nevermind. I don’t wanna know because then it will imply my involvement…”

Kyungsoo looked at him as if he was the strange one, but ignored him soon after. He lied down on the sofa in their living room and closed his eyes. His breathing soon became regular as he fell asleep, ignoring Jongin and his confusion.





Around 20 minutes later, a call came through Jongin’s phone. The sound of the phone vibrating against the wooden coffee table alerted them. Kyungsoo’s eyes snapped open at the same time as when Jongin’s back straightened, and they looked at each other before glancing at the phone.

“The number is withheld,” Jongin sneered, holding his phone up for Kyungsoo, “Your plan didn’t work.”

Kyungsoo didn’t react to Jongin’s bait. “On the contrary, I have everything I need.” He rose up from the sofa and dragged the suitcase back to the living room, where he dumped all the contents onto the floor. “Now, what did you see? What’s missing?”

Jongin looked at the pile of clothes, bottles of cosmetics and an envelope he assumed to contain cash money, and shrugged. “How am I supposed to know?”

“His cellphone!” Kyungsoo said, his voice rising due to his impatience. “He was a man who came for an escapade. He needed the phone to contact this secret lover. There’s no way this man wouldn’t carry a phone with him. Now, Chanyeol told us there was no phone found with the body, and there’s no phone here in the suitcase as well. The only possible option is that the murderer had taken the phone.”

And this murderer just called his phone, Jongin thought. Great, exactly what he needed to spice up his already complicated life. “What are you going to do now?”

Kyungsoo stood up, his eyes once again gleaming with excitement. “We’ll meet him, of course.”

“W—wait, we?” Jongin asked desperately.

“Of course!” Kyungsoo raised his eyebrows. “Who’s gonna drive me?”

“Kyungsoo, I--I didn’t sign up for this.” Jongin held his hands up.

“Rubbish. of course you did. Need I remind you that you had accepted this as a part of the deal of living here? Besides,” Kyungsoo said. “I happened to know that you had been snooping around my notebooks and findings, which can only mean that you’re curious. Now,” Kyungsoo gave him a challenging stare, “You can stay here and enjoy your boring life, or come with me to find out how this case unravels.”

Jongin, of course, despite knowing that he would regret his decision as soon as the danger came, stood up and meekly followed Kyungsoo.





Kyungsoo brought them to the address he told Jongin to text, which turned out to be a dingy coffee shop at one of the quieter district at the northeast of Seoul. Each of them ordered a cup of coffee and picked a table by the window. Kyungsoo’s eyes restlessly scanned the street outside every minutes. Their order arrived five minutes later, two steaming cups of black coffee, brought by a cheerful young man with cat-like eyes.

“What a pleasant change, Kyungsoo,” the man greeted. “You brought a date tonight.”

“I’m not his date!” Jongin protested, but the man seemed to ignore him and continued. “Kyungsoo here is a great man. He saved me from a murder charge.”

“Oh?” The story sparked Jongin’s interest. He glanced at Kyungsoo, demanding an elaboration of the story.

“Jongin, meet Jongdae. Few years back I proved his innocence by proving that he was across the town at the time, breaking into a house, when the murder took place.”

“But...in the end, you still received a sentence then?” Jongin found the entire case ridiculous.

“Yes, but the murder victim was a highschool girl, who was before she was killed. You can’t imagine the things people do to rapists in prison,” Jongdae said cheerfully. Jongin was profoundly surprised at how Kyungsoo seemed to make acquaintances with people who found things such as murder the least disturbing. “Enjoy the coffee then,” Jongdae told them. “You two make such a cute couple.

Jongin was going to protest again but Jongdae had already left them. He settled back in his seat, nursing his cup while quietly swallowing his annoyance. At a point, he glanced at his roommate and realized that it was the first time he actually had the chance to study Kyungsoo’s facial features. The criminal junkie was actually quite cute, to say the least. He had round, wide eyes and shapely lips. Everything about his build was small--his height, his shoulders...even his fingers looked delicate despite how able Jongin knew they were. He had a nice voice too; Jongin happened to hear him sing along to an aria that he played on his gramophone.

Jongin chuckled. In the era of digital music, Kyungsoo was probably the only person who still listened to his music through such an ancient device. Then again, nothing about him was ordinary--

“Enjoying what you see?”

Jongin was snapped back from his idle thoughts, and looked up to see Kyungsoo smiling his annoying, arrogant smile. Jongin cursed himself for getting caught, but he ignored his roommate.

“Do you even know who you’re waiting for?” Jongin asked.

“The murderer.”

“I’m not that stupid, Kyungsoo, of course I know we’re waiting for the murderer. I was asking if you know how to identify him.”

“Oh you’ll know,” Kyungsoo answered casually.

“How can you be so sure that this person will come up? He can’t possibly be so stupid to fall into your trap.”

“This man has killed four people, five including Oh Sehun, for fun. He kills randomly, hunting his prey in the crowd. He has no fear, Jongin, no. He will accept our text as a challenge, another thrill that could relieve him from boredom,” Kyungsoo told him, before straightening his back a second later, “Which by the way, he’s here. Come on.” Kyungsoo placed a bill on the table to pay for the coffee and stood up.

“Shouldn’t we call the police?”

“For god’s sake, Jongin,” Kyungsoo rolled his eyes. “The so-called police haven’t even realized that the four suicide cases are connected to each other even with apparent evidence. We can perhaps expect another dozen victims if we’re gonna wait for them.”

Jongin’s mind quickly went to Chanyeol. He imagined the amount of bullying the detective had received from Kyungsoo, and he felt grateful that he wasn’t in Chanyeol’s position.





“There’s nobody here,” Jongin looked around the empty street in disappointment.

“Oh, but there is,” Kyungsoo smiled confidently and signaled Jongin to follow him towards an occupied cab some ten meters away from them. He stopped by the backseat window and knocked. The tinted glass rolled down to reveal a confused looking man.

“Iz dere anee problum?” the man, probably Chinese, asked in a broken Korean.

It was Kyungsoo’s turn to experience the surprise, for having his prediction to be proven wrong. “I...was just...checking if everything’s okay--since it’s unusual for a cab to drive around this particular block, let alone pulling over.” He explained carefully, lying to the foreigner through his teeth.

“Oooh…” The man in the cab nodded. “My driber azked eef we could stahp beekoz he needz to pee.”

“I see. Well, I’m sorry to inform you this, but he might be cheating you by taking you around. Be careful okay?” he saw the foreigner nodded, and apologized once again. He glanced at Jongin. “He’s not our man,” he said. “Look at him--he’s timid, and he can’t even speak Korean well. Our guy is someone who can easily charm people into putting their trust in him. Plus…” Kyungsoo pointed at the tag on the man’s luggage. “He’s just arrived from New York. There’s no way he could have been here for the murder.”

Kyungsoo waved the man goodbye, and the cab drove off. Once there were just the two of them, however, he lost his composure and kicked a trash can, spilling the garbage all over the street. Jongin was surprised to see the first bout of emotion Kyungsoo showed him since the first time they became roommates.

“I’m never wrong,” Kyungsoo said, balling his fists. “Never, Jongin.”

It was one of Kyungsoo’s arrogant statements, not the first one that Jongin ever heard. However, this time he found himself with no doubt, regarding the validity of the claim. “It’s probably just a bad day. Maybe the killer didn’t show up. Maybe he wasn’t as brave as you made him to be. You need to rest, Kyungsoo. You haven’t been sleeping enough, I know.”

“Sleep is boring and rest is overrated,” Kyungsoo said dismissively. “He was--or still is--here, probably laughing at us as we speak. But you’re right--” Kyungsoo turned around and stuck his hands into his coat pockets. “I need to re-read all my notes, and maybe I can identify where things have gone wrong. Get the car, Jongin. Chop-chop!”

Jongin rolled his eyes and for a while regretted that he ever felt a sympathy for Kyungsoo.





Kyungsoo had been in a foul mood since that night. So far, there had been no progress on the case, and nothing tortured him more than days of stalemate. All Kyungsoo did when he wasn’t poring over his notes was lying on the couch and acting oblivious towards his surrounding.

Jongin honestly found the lack of Kyungsoo’s usual antics relieving, because it allowed him to actually make progress with his works. However, during the times when he was too tired to even lift his charcoal stick and Junmyeon wasn’t around to offer some company, the silence was dreadfully boring. In the end, he grudgingly admitted that being randomly dragged around the town by Kyungsoo had been quite an exciting routine. Jongin was embarrassed to notice that he had secretly wished for a disruption to happen and break the agonizing peace.

It was unfortunate, however, that Jongin’s wish came true in the form of a visit from what seemed like the entire Seoul Metropolitan Police squad. Jongin didn’t expect to come home an evening, after a dinner at Jongdae’s with Kyungsoo, to literally have Chanyeol slammed into his face.

“What the --Chanyeol?” Jongin asked, rubbing his painful nose while hoping that it wasn’t broken.

“Inspector Park, if you don’t mind,” the detective scowled as a reaction towards the overly casual way Jongin addressed him. His attention was diverted to Kyungsoo, who walked in a second after Jongin with a look of horror on his face. “I knew you would find the suitcase,” Chanyeol broke into a victorious grin. “Withholding an evidence is punishable by law under the obstruction of justice clause.”

“What the are you doing?” Kyungsoo hissed at Chanyeol, who was putting on latex gloves and eyeing Oh Sehun’s suitcase hungrily. “You can’t just break in and accused me of withholding evidence.”

“But I’m not breaking in. I’m here for another reason,” Chanyeol said, as if he had waited for Kyungsoo to confront him. “This is a drug bust.”

Jongin snorted loudly. “Seriously? Kyungsoo, a junkie? Have you even met him?”

“Jongin, shut up,” Kyungsoo hushed, trying to press his palm over Jongin’s mouth . “Don’t say anything.”

Noticing the tone, and how Kyungsoo uneasily fidgeted on his feet, Jongin’s smile dissolved instantly. “No…don’t tell me--Kyungsoo!”

Kyungsoo shot a look, which managed to silence his roommate, before he turned back to Chanyeol. “Look...admittedly, I’m keeping some--borderline illegal substances but they’re for research!”

“Oh shut up, Kyungsoo, we all know that you occasionally enjoy the trip down the psychedelic road. You’re lucky because that wasn't what we came here for...” Chanyeol rolled his eyes. “We--found Baekhyun. True to your prediction, he was Oh Sehun’s secret lover.”

Kyungsoo’s face appeared more surprise than smug when he heard the new information. However, his shock only lasted briefly, and the next second he already charging toward Chanyeol with demands. “I must talk to him--you must arrange it so that I can speak to him alone. And for the love of God, Chanyeol, don’t use the authority card against me if you want the killer to be caught--”

“He’s dead, Kyungsoo,” Chanyeol cut him off. “Byun Baekhyun has been dead for eleven years. He was drowned in the river, with a strong suspicion of suicide. Conveniently, there had been a rumor earlier on the same year that he was devastated since Oh Sehun left him. But Oh Sehun denied his involvement with Baekhyun.”

Kyungsoo’s disappointment was so apparent, since almost at the same time as Chanyeol finished his story, he sank into the high chair behind him. “Dead...He’s the last possible trail that could have lead us to the killer, and he’s dead…”

“Maybe the death of Oh Sehun was a suicide after all,” Chanyeol offered, “Who knows if he had kept the guilt for leading Baekhyun to his death throughout his life, and the writing on the floor was something he did out of regret--”

Kyungsoo’s ears perked up. He stood up and yanked Chanyeol’s tie down. “What did you just say?”

“Suicide, ok?” Chanyeol squeaked, gasping for air when his tie constricted his windpipe. “God, what is wrong with you--you could have broken my neck!”

“No, not that one you stupid detective!” Kyungsoo paced around the room. “Regret! That’s it!!”

Everyone else in the room, including the police officers that came with Chanyeol to search for ‘evidence’, were exchanging glances. Kyungsoo shook his head impatiently at how they seemed lost at his words. “Are you guys stupid? Do I really need to explain word by word?”

“Well,” Jongin shrugged, “None of us will mind, I guess…”

“First of all, we have agreed that Oh Sehun is the fifth victim of the serial murder,” Kyungsoo started, to which the people around him nodded, “however, it was also known that none of the victims bore any signs of struggle or hesitation--which can only mean that the killer had cleverly, brilliantly even, talked his way into making the victims think that suicide was something they absolutely need to do.”

“But--how?” Chanyeol asked in utter confusion. “Just what could a man possibly say, to convince a bunch of people who looked like they were at their peaks, to end their life?”

“Regret,” Kyungsoo said calmly. The shadow of a victorious smile danced upon his face.





“First Victim, Wu Yifan;” he read the newspaper clippings he whipped from his desk out loud, “Prior to his career in politics, he was involved in an unfortunate mountain climbing expedition that ended up with him being the only survivor, while the rest of his team--all eleven of them--remained lost and declared dead. Lee Jinki; in his early years of teaching, he was accused for statutory towards a male student named Kim Kibum. Mr. Lee was freed of all charges after his then-fiancee Kim Jungah provided him with a solid alibi, but the victim had his sports scholarship revoked and expelled for the allegations he raised. Choi Jinri; there was a rumor about her getting pregnant with one of her father’s staff, as well as severe bullying accusations towards four of her classmates in high school. Kim Youngmin; he was notoriously known for business takeovers, destroying dozens of small and medium sized companies. Thousands of people lost their wealth or jobs as soon as Kim Youngmin was done with them. Of course, everything he did was legal, but were they ethical?”

“And lastly,” Kyungsoo paused, intentionally taking his time to watch how the looks of curiosity on the faces before him intensified, “we have Oh Sehun and his sob story. All we need to find out is how they connect. Of course, it would be much easier if this Oh Sehun had been bright enough to turn on the GPS. But I supposed not everyone was blessed with a brain as good as mine--”

Kyungsoo’s words were interrupted by a knock on the door. Anticipation was lingering in the air when everybody turned their head toward the entrance, but ultimately sunk as soon as they saw that it was just Junmyeon. The owner of the property looked annoyed as he noticed the obvious resentment for his presence.

“I’m sorry for interrupting the--meeting...or whatever--but a cab is waiting for you downstairs.”

“A cab?” Kyungsoo asked in an exaggerated tone. “Why on earth, my dear Junmyeon, would I need a cab in the middle of the night, when I have these...pleasant people as my company?”

“How am I supposed to know?” Junmyeon shot back, looking equally annoyed for having to deal with a dozen of people marching into his well-kept mansion in their dirty shoes, as well as Kyungsoo’s attitude. “The driver insisted that I forward his message to you--even after I told him that I’m not your housekeeper--that Nemesis sent him.”

Kyungsoo dropped the newspaper in his hands. When Jongin looked at him, he saw that his roommate’s face was as pale as a dead man’s.





The taxi drove off from Junmyeon’s mansion and disappeared into the crowded streets of Seoul. The car windows were rolled down, allowing the high-pitched female vocal and the elaborate orchestra from the cassette player to dissolve into the night air. The song came from one of Kyungsoo’s favorite plays, Madame Butterfly, but he wasn’t exactly in the mood for opera. His mind was full of so many puzzles, none of which seemed to materialize into an actual question that he could ask the driver.

After a while, an eerie voice came from behind the steering wheel. “I understand that you have so much things you want to ask me, Mr. Do Kyungsoo…Feel free to start.”

Kyungsoo raised his eyebrows in recognition. Same voice--although different aura, same silhouette, and--from what he saw through the rear mirror--same eyes. Kyungsoo could only have guessed that it would be the same delicate, handsome and pale face as well. Only one thing was different.

“How kind of you,” he peered at the driver’s identification card, “Mr. Lu Han. Curious, how you completely got rid of your accent within less than a month.”

“Oh!” Kyungsoo glanced into the mirror and saw Lu Han’s eyes sparkling with delight. “Yu meen diz? Fancy how people can be so easily deceived with such details, eh?”

The car pulled aside and drove into a smaller, private road that ended up at the entrance of a school building. Lu Han pulled the brakes and took out a gun from his jacket, pointing it to Kyungsoo’s chest.

“Come, Kyungsoo, let’s play a game…”





“Please Chanyeol, can you drive faster?” Jongin tapped his fingers on the dashboard of the detective’s car impatiently,

“For God’s sake, Jongin, we’re driving downtown. If I drive any faster, I will subject the public to danger—“

“Look they’re stopping somewhere on the next block!” Jongin exclaimed, "We’re getting closer!” His eyes were on his phone screen, watching closely at how the tiny dot that represented Kyungsoo’s phone slowed down, and finally stopped moving. He rocked his body anxiously, while thinking how fortunate they were that the GPS on Kyungsoo’s phone was .

When they reached the place that was showed on the screen, however, they encountered with another problem: the killer apparently had discovered Kyungsoo’s phone and destroyed it. The only lead they had into finding Kyungsoo was now a broken mess upon the asphalt ground.





Kyungsoo stared at two identical bottles in front of him, both containing identical clear capsules filled with similar white and pink grains. He didn’t need Lu Han to tell him what the capsules were, and what kind of ‘game’ they were playing. At the moment, Kyungsoo was in the exact same position as the victims had been in right before they had died. He knew that a simple mistake could lead to his death as well.

“So tell me…” Kyungsoo rapped his knuckles on the table rhythmically. “When did you find out?”

“Excuse me?” Luhan asked, his misleading angelic smile never leaving his face.

“Your disease,” Kyungsoo said blankly. “You tend to swerve to your right when you drove. It’s cancer. But it’s barely noticeable, so it’s most likely that the primary problem isn’t in your head--metastasis it is then. Now…what are the common causes of metastasis? Your skin sags--you lost a lot of weight in such a short time. Your breathing is heavy and noisy. I’m guessing it’s your lungs.” Kyungsoo finished his sentence in a low whisper, and leaned forward, “How much time did the doctors condemn you with?”

Luhan’s expression remain unchanged. He didn’t even shift when Kyungsoo’s face was merely few inches away from his. “Four years, and it was thirty six months ago. I could die at any second now. Do you know how it feels like to wake up in the morning with the knowledge that it could very well be your last day, Mr. Do Kyungsoo?” Luhan’s smile became wider and more feral. “I’ve been trying to redeem myself--”

“By killing five people you have no connection with,” Kyungsoo cut him off.

“I offered them redemption!” Luhan stood up all of a sudden, probably ticked by Kyungsoo’s words, and knocked the chair down. “Those people deserved the punishment that befell upon them. I offered them a chance to pay their debts, and they all took it.”

“How convenient…” Kyungsoo looked genuinely impressed, “I have to be honest that your plan is ingenuous. People are known to develop a habit of spilling their sad, tragic story to strangers--more often than not, cab driver. Tell me, though, how did you get them to take the pill?”

Luhan’s eyes sparkled when he heard Kyungsoo’s question. “It’s simple,” he replied in excitement, taking out his gun, “Like this.” He pointed the gun right between Kyungsoo’s eyebrows. “I’m now offering you your chance as well, Mr. Do Kyungsoo. In front of you there are two identical capsules, one which will kill you, and the other makes you fall asleep. You will have a 50-50 chance of survival, and if you make it through this evaluation, I will let you live. However, should you refuse to take the capsule, I will execute you with the mark of cain burned on your forehead.”

“None of them,” Kyungsoo replied curtly while keeping his calm. “I have nothing I should repent, I suppose.”

“Pick. One,” Lu Han repeated, putting an emphasis on each words. “I insist.” He released the gun’s safety.

“None of them are duds, are they...” Kyungsoo asked rhetorically. “Both of them are real, aren’t they?”

“Well,” Luhan chuckled, and for a second he truly looked like the angel of death. “You will never know…”





“Over there!” Jongin shouted, pointing out at the room across where he and Chanyeol were. “Oh God, he’s holding a gun to Kyungsoo! Chanyeol, do something!”

“D-do what?” Chanyeol asked nervously.

“For God’s sake, Chanyeol! Are you not a detective?” Within a split second, Jongin snatched Chanyeol’s gun from the holster. He poured every ounce of his concentration into aiming at the distant target, and pulled the trigger despite Chanyeol’s paniced shout.





Everything seemed surreal.

One moment, Kyungsoo’s sense focused on the feeling of cold metal against his forehead, and the next second, he saw Luhan slumped in slow-motion as a bullet hit his throat point-blank. The serial killer coughed up blood when the bullet had torn his artery; the warm liquid splattered across Kyungsoo’s face, all while he was frozen in his position. He remained stationary, unable to comprehend the entirety of the situation, until the door banged open and Jongin rushed in.

“Kyungsoo!” Jongin called out, shaking his roommate’s shoulder. “Are you alright.”

Kyungsoo turned his head slowly, meeting Jongin’s gaze, and wiped the warm splatter off his face. He looked down and saw that his hand was red.

“I’m fine…” he said.





“So…” Jongin said, nudging Chanyeol with his shoulder. “Are you going to arrest me for killing that man?”

Chanyeol raised his eyebrows, “Well…” he coughed, “I suppose I can take the blame this time. I mean...I know that you were driven by the instinct to help your friend, so…I think I will help you.”

Kyungsoo snorted. Both Chanyeol and Jongin turned toward him. He was still wrapped in a hospital-issued blanket, sipping a cup of hot chocolate that helped him to overcome the shock. But even though the same happening could have caused post-traumatic disorder to any other people, apparently it held no effect to Kyungsoo, because the next moment, he already made his usual remark.

“Helping Jongin?” Kyungsoo scoffed. “You’re taking credit for his achievement, are you not?”

Chanyeol’s face grew red, and he began to defend himself wholeheartedly at Kyungsoo. Their banter continued, and despite how his entire body ached, and his head pounded violently due to exhaustion, Jongin thought that he had no problem staying around for a little bit longer, just enjoying the fact that all of them were alive.




fin